Desperation
by LadyOfTheLetters
Summary: Juliet is overwrought his her fear of losing Romeo, going to the friar is her last chance. Juliet goes to the friar from her point of view.


_**Desperation**_

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><p><em><strong>Act 4: Scene 6<strong>_

_**Juliet P.O.V**_

_**I do not own Romeo and Juliet because just so you know my name is William nor am I dead...enjoy!**_

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><p>My heart is sick, limp, and bruised. My soul is being slowly slit, burned with acid, and each time I imagine that pig Paris salt is rubbed viciously in the worst areas. My whole body aches with helplessness. Would the world be so cruel to truly separate us? Romeo, I need of you. Safe me from this place I beg of you dearest heart. I fight down the tears gripping my handkerchief tightly between trembling fingers. My face in the water basin is drawn and sallow. I see nothing of myself. Nor of the bright sun girl that happily glowed after her last encounter with her husband. Perhaps my last. Another sob works its way through my chest. Once this latest silent scream is completely silenced, I walk out into my chambers. In a daze, I reach beneath my bed, my questing fingers finding a small wooden box.<p>

When I open it, I take the dagger I have hidden within velvet surrondings. A feeling of premension had moved me to buy it and later to hide it. It seems that this is the event it was meant for. There is a knock at my door. I kick the box underneath and hide the sheathed dagger behind my back. Nurse sticks her long face in to alert me it is time to visit the frair for confession. I nod solemly ordering her to give me a moment alone. She hesitantly nods. When she is gone, I slip the dagger into a pouch I wear when going into town. With its lethal weight against my hip, I straighten my spine, lifting my chin. If my light is to be extinguished, I will do it with the pride and devotion that my wounded heart demands.

The walk to the shirf is tense, but I am above caring. Too concered with moving forward, using a numb shroud to cushion my wounds which ache and bleed incessantly. Nurse and her manservant meanader outside as I enter, my black mourning clothes swirling around my legs. My spine stiffens when I see Frair Lauwerence walking closely by the pig himself. I keep my face neutral, while anger and disgust try to curl my limps into a primitive snarl.

"Happily met, my lady and my wife!" The DOG so dares to look unpon my face with ownership. Romeo's eyes full of cherishment flash in my mind. No this man is not the quarter of love my husbands boots poccess.

"That may be, sir, when I may be a wife." I answer as neutral as I can, my chin wobbles slightly. I do not think the oaf notices.

"That may be must be, love, on Thursday next." I do so despise the reminder.

"What must be shall be." True enough I think bitterly to the knife stashed in my pouch.

"That's a certain text." The frair says not unkindly.

"Come you to make confession to this father?" Paris pries, leaning towards me.

"To answer that, I should confess to you." Some bitterness enters my voice but either the Count doesn't notice or is to dull to care.

"Do not deny to him that you love me." A subtle warning if there ever was one.

"I will confess to you that I love him." However, I'm speaking about another him not this pig in fine clothes.

"So will ye, I am sure, that you love me." Never.

"If I do so, it will be more of price. Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.

"Poor soul, your face is much abused with tears." That you are partly the cause of Count.

"The tears have got small victory by that. For it was bad enough before their spite."

"Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that report." My fingers clench in my skirt.

"That is no slander, sir, which is a truth. And what I spake, I spake it to my face." I say practically through clench teeth.

"Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it." Excuse me? You dare more? Ready to be done with this whole conversation I turn to the friar who looks tired and older all the sudden.

"It may be so, for it is not mine own. Are you at leisure, Holy Father, now? Or shall I come to you at evening mass?"

"My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now. My lord, we must entreat the time alone."

"God shield I should disturb devotion! Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye. Till then, adieu; and keep this holy kiss." He kisses my forehead and I wince violently. Still the pig doesn't notice. He walks out with his nose is the air. I begin to rub viciously at the spot where his lips had touched. I would burn it, if Romeo had not placed his final kiss there either. I feel defiled, tainted in the evilest way. The Frair looks uncertain, I snap a him tersely.

"O shut the door! And when thou hast done so. Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help! " The Frair looks at me helplessly. My head is pounding as my heart sprints franticlly.

"Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief; It strains me past the compass of my wits. I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it, on Thursday next be married to this county."

"Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this. Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it. If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help, do thou but call my resolution wise. And with this knife I'll help it presently." I pull the dagger from the pouch clutching it like a lifeline. The Frair makes a wild movement to stop me but I look at him, eyes wild and step back. He stops shock spreading across his face.

"God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands. And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal' be the label to another deed, or my true heart with treacherous revolt. Turn to another, this shall slay them both." I keep speaking quickly my hand holding the knife shaking. I feel the madness in my eyes and voice but I am past caring.

"Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time. Give me some present counsel, or, behold, 'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife. Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that which the commission of thy years and art. Could to no issue of true honor bring. Be not so long to speak; I long to die, if what thou speak'st speak not of remedy." I unsheath the dagger and pose to strike myself the Frair reaches forth gripping my wrist in a vise speaking in a soft manner. Calming my tremors.

"Hold, daughter: I do spy a kind of hope. Which craves as desperate an execution. As that is desperate which we would prevent. If, rather than to marry County Paris, thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself. Then is it likely thou wilt undertake a thing like death to chide away this shame, that copest with death himself to scape from it. And, if thou darest, I'll give thee remedy." My eyes widen and I drop the dagger with a clunk to the floor. When the Friar releases my wrist, I reach forth and grab bunches of his clothes a hope shinning in my eyes.

"O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris. From off the battlements of yonder tower,

Or walk in thievish ways, or bid me lurk. Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears. Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house, O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones. With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls. Or bid me go into a new-made grave. And hide me with a dead man in his shroud, Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble. And I will do it without fear or doubt, To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love." The friar nods before gently releasing my grip of his clothes moving over to a wooden table in the corner as he fiddles around with vials of liquids.

"Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow:To-morrow night look that thou lie alone; Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber:Take thou this vial, being then in bed,And this distilled liquor drink thou off;When presently through all thy veins shall run A cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse Shall keep his native progress, but surcease: No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest; The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade To paly ashes, thy eyes' windows fall,Like death, when he shuts up the day of life; Each part, deprived of supple government, Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death: And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death Thou shalt continue two and forty hours, And then awake as from a pleasant , when the bridegroom in the morning comes. To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead:Then, as the manner of our country is, In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier. Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault. Where all the kindred of the Capulets the mean time, against thou shalt awake, Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift, And hither shall he come: and he and I will watch thy waking, and that very night. Shall Romeo bear thee hence to this shall free thee from this present shame; If no inconstant toy, nor womanish fear, Abate thy valour in the acting it." My heart leaps in fear and wonder. He extends his arm to me clutching onto my hand. Looking in my eyes holding the bottle out as if to ask a question. A choice for me to make. I nod as if in a dumb stupor before speaking.

"Give me, give me! O, tell not me of fear!" The vial in precious the second it enters my palm. I hold it to my lips to kiss the blessed object. The friar begins to lead me out the door, speaking in a low voice.

"Hold, get you gone, be strong and prosperous. In this resolve. I'll send a friar with speedto Mantua, with my letters to thy lord."

"Love give me strength! And strength shall help afford. Farewell, dear father!" With this last I rush out and again she the sun. It is light entering my body spurring hope and love. I am almost there love. Almost by your side.

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><p><strong><em>AN- This is my third fanfic so I hope it turned out okay! Thanks for reading, please review. _**

**_Love the Lady_**


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